Story of the Sword 1
Story of the Sword 1 is an encounter in the Crystal Kismet mission hub It comes after Wielder of the Dream. Enemies *Rock Wall Oroc (1040 Gold, 128 XP, 80 Energy, 7 HP) *Oroc Hurler (1105 Gold, 136 XP, 85 Energy, 7 HP) Transcript Introduction Rakshara turns to you as you make your way down the passage, forcing you to tilt your head upwards to meet her gaze. "Do you know of this sword I carry?" she asks, brandishing the weapon in front of her. "It looks like the one I saw in Roland's hand." Her orange brow furrows. "Oh... I mean..." "Closing time, you drunken bastards!" "...in portraits." "Do you know its tale?" You do. It's a story bound with that of the Dragon-Rider, part of %his% legend. But there's an almost childlike earnestness about the oroc. It's clear that she would relish the recounting of another tale, just as she did before. She wishes to weave the tapestry of history, to shape past and present around herself and thus demonstrate her rightful place in the destiny which unfolds before you both. You know this, because your feelings aren't so very different. "Tell me," you say. The look of girlish satisfaction on her orange face rewards your decision. "This was the first sword forged by Rogar, the legendary blacksmith -- a man so devoted to his craft that he slew himself when he knew that his finest work lay behind him. It came to be known as Rogar's Dream, and is said to contain all the magic of the smith's art, all the potential which was then unraveled during his career." Rakshara's voice almost seems to glitter with the telling of her tale. Just like René, the barkeep from the Chevalier's Casque, with his bottle of wine... This is perhaps a story she's told before, and yearns to tell again in your company -- as though all prior tellings have been but rehearsals of this one. The thought, or perhaps delusion, flatters you. You feel the others moving closer, shifting their attention as they wait to hear her continue. Even Hugh seems ensnared by her infectious wonderment. "It was once owned by a nobleman of your kind, a man named Nemler Bloodwyn. He had been an adventurer in his youth, much to the disdain of his well-born kin, and counted it among his finest treasures. When he grew old he decided to hold a contest, with Rogar's Dream as the prize. A test of wit, strength, and skill -- a way for warriors and adventurers to prove themselves. "Men and women of all races came to take up the challenge. One was Roland, the adventurer who would walk with the Dragon-Rider in his silver-haired years. Another was Raknur. My ancestor -- a great warrior among my people, a match for any enemy in battle. "One by one they were sent into a dungeon, alone and unarmed, transported into its chambers and corridors by sorcery. Somewhere in its reaches lay the sword they all sought, among their rivals and whatever traps Nemler's cunning mind had contrived." She pauses, as though for dramatic effect. It's only after a moment's slipped by that you understand why she fell silent. You follow her gaze, and see the burly forms of orocs further along the cavernous passage. "The Sapphire King's warriors," she says. "It seems that our own story must be furthered before my sword's may continue." Conclusion The oroc who charges for Rakshara is twice her width, a crystalline juggernaut laden with more muscle than two or three human warriors might bear. But she doesn't flinch from the coming collision, makes no effort to slip aside -- though her lithe frame could evade his with little effort. Instead she drives her shoulder downwards, thrusting with the orange shield, throwing her entire weight behind it. The thick bulwark ploughs into her enemy's abdomen, breaking his rush, bringing a soft groan to his lips. Rakshara's feet slide backwards upon the rock of the tunnel floor, but her balance goes unbroken. Her adversary has time to blink once before her sword drives upwards, taking him under his jaw. There's a grinding crunch as steel meets brain. "A beautiful weapon," she says, as the oroc collapses. She holds the blade out towards you as though seeking approval. "Magnificent even after all these centuries." Category:Crystal Kismet